


Smother

by TheOutCastAyh



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bottom Elio Perlman, Closure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage, Musician Elio Perlman, Oral Sex, Post-Divorce, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sad Elio Perlman, Semi-Public Sex, Sensual Play, Shower Sex, Unexpected Visitors, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOutCastAyh/pseuds/TheOutCastAyh
Summary: Elio decides, after a long while of studying abroad, to come back home.Life isn’t what it used to be anymore.(Whumptober no. 31 - Embrace)
Relationships: Oliver & Elio Perlman, Oliver/Elio Perlman
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1992988
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	Smother

**Author's Note:**

> Aye, Ayh here! Yet another fic for the belated Whumptober! I love Call Me By Your Name, and I love Find Me. So, I decided to pull this one out of my hat, and - here ya' go! It's a good one, I promise. :) I hope you enjoy, and I hope you are well. Take care.
> 
> This one took longer than expected, but I hope to keep these shorter as I go along. Enjoy.

[ Elio  ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrVnwnR4kKc) stood before the train, hauling everything from his university he would need in order to get back home. He’d be home for the summer, and it was a god sent. 

Having studied abroad, he did everything he could. Absorbing everything like he was a sponge. 

Just to get a resemblance of  _ home.  _

In his daze, his eyes skewed to a couple, holding hands, and gazing at each other, chest to chest. They were a perfect pair, a match made in Heaven, and yet he still had no one. 

After the winter of 1983, he had dated. Brought people home, brought people to his dorm, and yet he was still hurt. 

All because of  _ one _ person. 

He tried to push the images from his mind. 

On the train home, he leaned his head against the glass. Marveling in the cool feeling, he was warm, and couldn’t wait to get into the pool or wade in the river. 

He wondered if Marzia was still around, if she’d started dating anyone while he was away. Or if his parents had rented out the home to another new study abroad student. He wondered who his room went to, or the next. 

Since both were no longer occupied, he began to second guess everything. Sure, there were plenty of other places to sleep but would he be comfortable in any place but his bed while at home? 

How many people have slept in his bed since he left? 

How many bodies have lied together on it?

Like he had once before.

His thoughts were silenced as the taxi dropped him before the home, and his heart couldn’t take the excitement. He was homesick, missing his mother and father to the ends of the earth. Missing their embrace, their love, their glow. 

He entered through the front doors, and the familiar smell of Anchise’s fresh catch stained his nose. Mafalda must’ve wailed on him about the fish. Setting his things down, the house was quiet. Everyone must be in the back, by the pool, or having breakfast. 

It was only eight in the morning. 

He paced towards the back door. 

Mafalda had been in the kitchen, and spotted the young man in passing. At first she was stood in confusion. “Elio?” 

He came to a halt, and smiled upon seeing her. “Mafalda.” 

And then, she began to shine brightly like the sun. “Elio!” She opened her arms in joy, rounding the counter, and approaching to hug him tightly. 

He held her back, just as tightly, and praised in the kisses to his forehead. 

She stepped back, holding his face. “Oh, my. You’ve aged.” She beamed. “You’re a grown man now.” 

“I’m only 24.” 

“It’s years since I’ve last seen you.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up with college, and studying abroad.” 

She hugged him tightly again. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“I didn’t call ahead, I know it was foolish of me now.”

“You are welcome regardless. There will always be room for you.” She smiled. “I believe your father is in the garden.” 

“And my mom?”

She seemed to pause. “She should be around.” 

“Okay.” He said, walking for the back door.

“Elio?”

“Yeah?” He paused in the door.

“You haven’t called us since you left?”

“Only around Christmas once. Why?”

She smiled, “It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you. It’s nice to have you around again.”

“It’s good to be home.” He smiled, heading out into the summer sun. 

He spotted his father lingering around the pool, a glass of wine in hand, and, he could only assume, their new study abroad student. They were in deep thought as Elio approached. 

The stranger looked to Elio, but made no attempt to warn Sam Perlman. 

Elio wrapped his arms daringly around his father’s neck, and Sam’s hand went to his forearm, glancing over his shoulder to the intruder. “May I intervene?”

“Elio?” Sam turned quickly, and upon seeing his son, he erupted in happiness. “Elio!” He set his wine glass down on the pool’s edge, and clutched his son. “Oh, my goodness. It’s really you.”

“It’s really me.” Elio chuckled.

“It’s been so long.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit-”

“No, no, no.” Sam pulled back, “It’s alright. You’re here now. That’s all that matters now.” He held his son’s face, “You’ve aged well.”

“Thank you.” 

Sam looked at Elio in amazement, proudness even. He held Elio, holding the back of his head, and marveling at his beautiful son. Sam glanced back, “Elio, this is our study abroad student, Michael. He’s from Paris.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you.” They greeted, shaking hands. 

“Will you be staying for dinner?” Sam asked. 

“I was actually wondering if I could stay for the summer.”

Sam paused. 

“If there’s enough room for me.” 

“Of course there’s room for you.” Sam smiled, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

“Where’s mom?” 

Sam’s smiled diminished slightly, “She’s around.” 

“Is she next door?” 

Sam glanced back to Michael, and back to Elio. “Excuse us.” He said, putting his arm over Elio’s shoulders and began walking them along the yard. 

“What’s wrong?” Elio asked. “Has something happened?” He grew worrisome instantly. 

“Everything is fine.” Sam insisted. “There’s just been.. A few complications.” 

Elio stared with heavily furrowed brows, “What happened while I was away?” 

Sam sat Elio at the table, and kept his eyes averted as he spoke. He’d explained how his mother and him had broken things off, and things had gone downhill from there. Almost losing the house, the file for divorce, the custody battle on who gets what. 

Elio cried, and Sam couldn’t help but break his heart again reliving the memories. 

It took some time for Elio to recover from the revelation. 

He wiped his nose on his sleeve like a four year old, and cleared his throat, staring out to the pool side where Michael had now begun to tan. 

“I wish I could’ve told you sooner.” Sam stated. “But I didn’t want you to hurt.” 

“How long has it been?”

Sam sighed, “Only a few months. She hasn’t been here since Christmas.” 

Elio shook his head, “You called then.”

“We did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble?”

“Because,” he said softly, “It was so sudden. We fell out of love.” 

Elio shook his head.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but I want you to know she is still your mother. And she will always love you eternally.” 

Elio hung his head, holding his face, and stood up. “I think I need to take a walk.:

Sam stood as well. ‘Of course. Mafalda will have a room situated for you when you return, that is,” he paused, “if you chose to stay after what I’ve just told you.”

Elio didn’t answer his father, just turned away without a word, and moved through the house.

Mafalda, who’d overheard the whole thing, watched from the foyer with a miserable look.

Elio glanced up at her, but continued to pass her through the front doors. 

What was once a happy home was now torn apart, and set in stone. There was no turning back from this point in his life, there was nothing to mend. 

He was sure he could come home to rest his head on his mother’s chest, listening to her heart beat, and tell her all about college. Tell her everything he’d done, all the people he’d met, and the people he’d dated. How quirky they had been, how loving they were, and how different they were from each other. 

But she was gone. 

A hollow space where she used to occupy. 

Elio had wandered as far as the neighboring home, where Marzia once lived. He pushed himself past the front gate, and knocked on the door. He waited, pacing on the pathway. 

The front door opened. 

Elio met Marzia’s eyes, now a woman, full and beautiful. She stood before him in confusion, and then recognized who he was. 

“Elio?” She stepped out onto the porch, surprisingly with a shawl around shoulders. For a warm summer day, he was puzzled. 

He threw his arms up, “Marzia.” He tried his best, excited wail. 

“What’re you doing here? I thought you were abroad.”

“I was.” He smiled, “I came back home for the summer.” 

She didn’t seem happy. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “You don’t look happy to see me as I thought you would.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, “Well, we didn’t really leave off on good terms. But I consider you a friend.” 

Elio nodded in a dejected tone, and shoved his hands in his shorts pockets. 

“Why don’t you come in?” 

He didn’t object. 

He followed her through the very familiar halls, and inhaling the scent that was very much  _ Marzia  _ he gained a pinch of comfort. 

“Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m okay. Thank you.” 

Marzia and him entered the kitchen, she leaned against the counter. Elio standing on the opposing side. 

He smiled at her, and shook his head. “You haven’t changed.” 

“You have.” 

“Well.” He swayed, “I’ve seen amazing places.” 

“I can imagine.” 

His eyes wandered the angles of Mariza’s face, and down to her collar. He remembered what it was like to touch her, what she smelt like up close, what she sounded like being held closely. They were kids then, and he hadn’t met anyone like her since. 

“How have you been?” He asked. 

“Busy.” 

Elio nodded.

“And you?”

“With school and all, I didn’t have a moment to breathe.” He scoffed, “It felt like I was running in circles for a while, trying to find myself, and when I did - it was this long journey.” 

“And did you?”

He glanced up at her.

“Did you find yourself?”

He kept quiet, thinking it over. Had he found himself? He didn’t know just yet, but instead of answering - he smiled kindly, and picked at the crocheted piece on top of the counter. His eyes followed to her hands on the counter, to the ring on her finger. He gestured, with a faltering smile. 

“You’re engaged?” 

She looked down, as if to just discover the ring as well. “I am.”

“That’s.. That’s amazing.” He said softly. “When is the wedding?”

“We haven’t discussed it yet. It all happened so quickly.” 

“I bet.” Elio picked at his shirt now. “Who is he?” 

“I met him a while ago. Just when you left for school actually.”

Elio nodded. “Is he nice?” 

“Yes.” 

“And he cares for you?”

“Of course.” 

“He gives you the world?” 

Marzia stared into Elio’s solemn eyes, and she nodded. “He gave me a family.” 

Elio paused. 

She rounded the counter, and revealing from her shall, a baby bump. 

Elio gasped softly, his eyes never peeling from her stomach. “How long?” He whispered, if he spoke any louder, his voice would crack. 

“She’s only 17 weeks.”

“It’s a girl?” 

Marzia nodded with a smile. “Sometimes she kicks, but not always.” Marzia held out her hand, “Do you want to see?” 

Elio, with shaking hands, offered his own out. Marzia’s soft hands clasped around his, and he felt warm. He hadn’t held another hand in sometime, let alone Marzia’s. She pressed his hand to her stomach, and they waited, staring down at the baby bump. Marzia smiled, rubbing another portion of her stomach, and like clockwork - the baby kicked under Elio’s palm. 

He gasped, and Marzia laughed. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” 

Elio met Marzia’s eyes again, and in awe - he kept quiet, staring at their hands on her stomach. 

The front door opened, and Elio’s hands fell from Marzia’s. 

“Marzia?” Called a man from the door, toeing off his shoes. 

“In the kitchen.” 

Elio stood quietly off to the side as the man entered the room, confused as to who Elio was. Marzia approached, calm and collective, the man leaned down to kiss her temple while watching Elio. 

“Marzia? Who’s our guest?” 

“This is Elio Perlman. Sam’s son.” She introduced. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elio extended his hand out and they shook. 

“The pleasure is mine.  _ Massimo. _ ” 

“Elio has been studying abroad for these past years. It’s been some time since I’ve last seen him.” 

“Studying abroad, huh?” Her fiance questioned. “What do you study?” 

“I’m a music major.”

“Oh really?”

“Mainly piano.”

“You still play?” Marzia perked up. 

“I can’t stop.” Elio scoffed. 

“Elio is an amazing pianist.”

“Please.” Elio shied away. “Amature at best.”

“He’s being modest.” Marzia placed her hand on his chest. 

“I’d love to hear you play sometime.” Massimo stated, holding her hand to his heart. 

Elio averted his eyes to the touch, “Maybe later.” 

The two nodded at each other, and Elio swayed, lingering. “I should get back to the house.” He said, “I said I was only visiting. I didn’t know you still lived around.” He lied. 

“Well, you’re welcome whenever. Just knock on the door.” Marzia smiled. 

Elio nodded. “Again, pleasure to meet you.” He bowed to her husband. 

“And you.” 

The two waved as Elio excused himself out the front door, and he let out a pent up breath. Everything was happening so fast. 

His parents had split up.

Marzia was engaged and having a baby. 

He was having an existential crisis. 

It felt like the world was spinning off it’s axis and kicked into space by some galactic, omnipotent being. 

As he crossed the lawn back to the house, he noticed another taxi taking off from the property. He didn’t care, he needed a moment alone, if that meant going to sleep - then so be it.

He entered the home, a pair of suitcases by the door unmoved, his luggage was gone along with his bag. He passed Mafalda who had already readied him a bed and room. He moved for the stairs, but in Sam’s study - he paused. He pulled back from the stairwell, and quietly crossed the threshold. 

His father stood facing the doorway, shock on his face as well, but as Elio neared - his eyes averted the stranger before him. 

The stranger turned to the intruder, and the air turned solid. Elio couldn’t inhale or exhale, he couldn’t blink, couldn’t pump a single ounce of blood through his veins. 

He’d turned to stone. 

He could hear it, a phantom haunting him, whispering in his ears, and holding him tenderly, like a wrong number;

_ Oliver.  _

  
  
  


For lunch, the Perlman’s and company dined al fresco. There was a tight tension among them, too many secrets in such a short amount of time revealed. 

Sam cleared his throat, “So,  _ Oliver, _ will you be staying for dinner?” 

Oliver, sitting directly across from Elio on his father’s left side, never met Elio’s gaze. As if Elio would look Oliver in the face, or even in his direction. “If it’s not too much.”

Sam smiled, “You’re always welcome.” 

“Thank you.” Oliver glanced at their new exchange student, Michael, and extended his hand out. “Nice to meet you.  _ Oliver _ .” 

“Michael.” 

“Michael is from Paris, he is an art conservationist.” Sam stated. 

“Really?” Oliver smiled, “That’s wonderful.” 

“He actually helped find a few works washed ashore months prior.” 

“That’s fantastic. I have to see some of these.” Oliver smiled. 

“There’s plenty of time.” Michael waved his hand. 

“Speaking of time,” Sam glanced over, “It’s been a while since we’ve last seen you. We last heard from you around christmas.” 

Oliver nodded, turning his eyes aside. 

“You were to be engaged?”

“Yes.”

“And how is she?” 

“She’s just fine.” He smiled.

Both Sam and Elio sensed a tinge of a hidden message, but neither said a thing. Sam was quick to switch conversations, “Elio here has been studying abroad.” 

Oliver examined Elio’s grown face; his shaggy hair had outgrown to his jaw, a shadow of a mustache and maybe even a beard had formed in patches, his eyes unchanging, his lips the same lush pink as last. Oliver looked to his plate.

“Have you?” Oliver questioned. “What do you study?” 

Elio scoffed sardonically, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does.” Sam said. 

“It hadn’t gotten me anywhere.” 

Oliver cleared his throat, “The food is delicious.” He skipped. 

Sam turned from Elio, and smiled. “Anchise caught it today.” 

“Well, it’s fantastic. I’ll be sure to thank him.” Oliver beamed. 

The conversation didn’t travel much further, and Elio excused himself shortly after. Sam and Oliver wandered out into the sun, Michael went into town on Elio’s old bike. From his open french window, Elio could hear the muffled sound of Oliver’s voice at a distance. 

He ran his hands over his face. 

What was he doing there? Of all times, Oliver came back when Elio came home. 

Elio was already carrying such a heavy burden, and now his old flame returned?

He smothered himself to sleep, pillow over his head, regardless of how hot it was. 

  
  
  


When he’d opened his eyes again, the sky outside was lit by the waning moon. He peeled his shirt from his chest, drenched in sweat, and sat up. His eyes adjusted to the shadows around him. He didn’t hear a single sound, he must’ve slept through dinner. 

Mafalda would have woken him. 

But maybe she knew something he didn’t, maybe she knew he needed the sleep in order to cope with what was to come. 

He exited the room, glancing into the quiet hallway, and crept down the stairs. The clock was just on the turning point of midnight, surely no one would be awake. 

He was wrong. 

Sam was sitting in his study, his hand over his brow, looking down at his paperwork. 

Elio neared, leaning against the doorway. “I thought I would be the only one awake.” 

Sam, startled, looked to Elio.”So did I apparently.” He smiled. 

Elio smiled softly back. 

“How was your rest?” 

“Well deserved.”

“You traveled all this way, and you received more than you can handle. I’m sorry.”

“You had no control over the things that happened. I guess it was inevitable.”

Sam frowned, and shut his book. He gestured Elio forward, beckoning him. 

Elio obliged, sitting beside him on the couch. 

Sam smiled at him, in a sad sort of way. 

“I’m proud of you, do you know that?”

“What have I done?” Elio asked. 

“Everything. You’re everything I expected you to be,  _ better  _ even,” 

Elio picked at his shorts. “Marzia is pregnant.” He suddenly said. “And engaged.”

“I know.” 

“It’s a girl.” He seemed to find himself laughing for unknown reasons. 

“How does that make you feel?”

“I’m happy... I’m happy for her.” He restated. “She’s happy, I’m happy.” 

Sam nodded, “You don’t have to hide how you feel about it. You can be uncomfortable or dislike something.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable? She’s bringing a child into this world, with the man she loves, in her childhood home. How can I be unhappy for her?”

Sam saw that his son was being stubborn, and brushed it aside. He sighed, and leaned his elbow on the back of the couch now facing Elio. “How do you feel about Oliver showing up here?” 

Elio kept his eyes down, “Indifferent.”

“I don’t believe that’s correct.”

“Well, that’s how I feel so.” He trailed off. 

“He’ll be here for a few weeks.” 

“Good for him.” 

“Elio.” Sam called, “Look at me.”

Elio glanced to his father and away, but Sam pulled his chin gently aside. They stared into each other’s eyes. 

“Whatever strange occurrence has happened, years later, you’ve come back home. And I know it’s a rough patch, but Oliver has come here too. Whatever it may be, a second chance, or closure, he’s here.”

Elio pulled his chin away, “I don’t need closure. I just want to be home, with my family around me, before I go back to school.” 

Sam sighed once again, and watched Elio retract into a man he didn’t know. Where did the Elio go that once cared for everything too much, and himself too little? Did he fail as a parent in letting the world shape his child this way? Or was this the way of life? 

“I’m going to turn in for the night.” Sam stated, leaning forward, kissing his son good night. 

“Good night.” Elio called, still seated. 

Sam lingered in the doorway, and smiled. “Good night.”

Elio was left alone, once again, to dwindle in his thoughts and drown in them. He thought of showering, or dipping in the pool out back for a bit. But everything felt off. 

His plan for the morning was to wake early, and leave for the city. He wouldn’t allow Oliver enough time to corner him, to question, or even look in his direction. He’d take his bike, or Anchise’s, and say goodbye to his father for the afternoon. 

  
  
  


His plan didn’t go just as planned. 

“Michael is going to town. He’s taking your bike.” Sam stated.

“And the other?” 

“It was scrapped.” 

Elio sighed heavily, hands on his hips in defeat. 

“What will you do in town?” 

“See old sites. It’s been some time since I’ve been back.” 

“Why don’t you stay here for the day? I’m sure you’ll find something to do. You could compose, or play-?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Then you could help me in the study. I’m overlooking a few transcripts, I could use another mind.” 

“Why don’t you use Oliver’s?”

To his name, Oliver had appeared from inside.

“Use what of mine?” He asked.

“Excuse me.” Elio stepped away.

Oliver watched him walk off the patio towards the side gate. “Excuse me.” He told Sam before following. “Elio.” He called.

Elio hurried along. 

“Hey.” He called, catching up as he rounded the front of the house. “Elio.” He grabbed Elio’s arm, and Elio pulled himself back. 

“Don’t.” 

Oliver put his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. You just won’t talk to me.” 

“I have to go.” Elio turned away. 

“Hey, wait.” Oliver followed him back into the house through the front door. “Will you talk to me?” 

“Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about.” Elio started up the stairs, Oliver on his heels. 

“I want to start fresh.”

“Start fresh?” Elio scoffed, “As if.” 

“Would you please stop walking away from me?” Oliver followed him into the hallway. “Would you just  _ look  _ at me?” 

Elio stopped at his door, his hand on the wood, and Oliver didn’t move. He stared at the back of Elio’s head, waiting for him to turn. 

“I know this is a lot. Believe me, I know. But I want to sit down and talk to you, about what happened.” 

“What happened?” Elio asked. “You can’t even bring yourself to say it?” He finally turned. “You left. You left and I was  _ here _ .” He pointed accusingly. “You got engaged, and you expected me to just wait around for you if things went wrong?”

“I didn’t expect anything of you.”

“Yeah, that showed.” Elio opened his door. 

“Wait.” Grabbed him again, and Elio pulled back. “Just...  _ wait.”  _ Oliver pleaded. “Please.” 

“Why did you even come back, huh? Why didn’t you just stay away?”

“I was nearby. I thought it’d be courtesy to say hello to the people who watched me for a summer.” 

“Just go.” 

“Elio.  _ Wait _ .” 

Elio glanced between his eyes, and shook his head when Oliver said nothing. “It would just be better if we both forgot anything that ever happened.” Elio stepped into the room, and shut the door after himself. 

Oliver stood behind the door at a loss, his mouth gasped open, mind blank. He hung his head, and departed from the hall. 

With his forehead to the door, he listened for the footsteps and silence that followed. 

His heart ached for comfort, but he was also hurt by unsealed wounds from the past. He didn’t want to get hurt again, and would do anything to kick and scream, just to keep the world from hurting him. His eyes felt like they were burning. He rubbed his eyes roughly, packing a small bag, and headed out. Bike or not, he couldn’t hang around the house while Oliver was around. He spotted Michael just walking across the lawn with the bike. 

“Michael!” He muttered, jogging up to him. “You’re going into town?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” Michael hummed, “I’d enjoy the company actually.” 

They began walking side by side towards town, it was just until they’d gotten to the hills that Michael got onto the bike, daringly - Elio on the handlebars. He wasn’t a kid anymore, or a teenager, but it made his heart race. Michael laughed as they entered the town Elio once knew, and it seemingly never changed. 

Elio got off from the handlebars, wiping his shorts down, “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” They stood beside a monument. 

“What’re you going to do in town?” Elio asked. 

“There are a few exhibits I would like to see. Should I feel inspired to find new adventures.” Michael smiled, and he was quite charming. 

“Like, art exhibits?”

“Correct. And you?” 

“I just needed to get out of the house for a bit. A lot of things are happening all at once.”

“I understand.” Michael said. 

“Is there any chance there’s room for me on the way back to the house?” Elio asked. 

Michael smiled, “We can find a median.”

  
  
  


Elio joined Michael’s adventure through the art exhibits and they grabbed drinks after. They had a lot more in common than Elio had expected. By the end of the day, they were warm bellied, laughing, and red faced. 

“So.” Michael said. 

“So?”

“What is your relation to the man back at the house?”

Elio’s stomach sunk, “What man?”

Michael pointed, “You know which. The fair one, the Jew. I don’t see many proud Jews anymore.” 

“There’s nothing going on.”

“But there was at one point?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“What? Did you love him and he did not love you back?” 

Elio sneered. “He left.”

“And you’re still broken?” 

“I’m not broken.”

“Your thoughts may say otherwise.” 

Elio downed another shot, and called for a refill pint. 

Michael watched him, “So, you are with him no longer?”

“That bridge has been long dead and gone.” 

Michael hummed, “Good.”

Elio looked to Michael, and watched his eyes gleam. Maybe it was the beer, or the lighting, but he looked delicious. 

He didn’t know what Michael offered, but if it was comfort and heat - he’d steal it. 

On the way back, as the sun began to set, Michael had begun to bike back. This time, Elio was sat behind him, clutching onto the seat under him. Michael, from behind, while drunk, was divine. 

Maybe Elio was  _ too  _ touch starved and horny - he couldn’t help but picture how plush Michael’s tongue would feel around his fingers. Or how his head would look between his legs, or vice versa. 

It made for an uncomfortable return home. Retreating first, Elio slipped inside and Michael watched him go with a smirk. 

Elio came across the others having dinner already, they looked up to him in the door. 

“You’re back.” Sam looked to the time. “We’re just starting.”

“If you don’t mind,” he kept his eyes strictly off of Oliver, “I’ve had a few drinks. I’ll turn in early.” 

“I’ll wrap up some food for you.” Mafalda promised. 

“You’re a Saint. Thank you.” He kissed her head briskly and took back for the door while saying good night. He just passed Michael in the hall, Elio glances to him from the stairs. 

Michael gave a promising glance. 

Elio hurried up the stairs and shut his door behind him. What was he doing? Having drinks with a stranger? A student who would vanish just as the last did in a month or so, this was a bad deja vu moment. He couldn’t will himself to do it again. 

To go through the heartbreak all over. 

He pulled his shirt off, and just as he was about to pull off his shorts - there was a knock at his door. 

Who was it? His father come to beg him to socialize? Mafalda to tell him where she put his food?  _ Oliver.  _ His heart was racing to think of it being Oliver. He started for the door, bare chested, and opened it. 

Michael stood on the other side, leaning against the door frame. His eyes raked down Elio’s torso unapologetically. “May I come in?” 

Elio, at a loss, stepped aside. 

Michael entered, and shut the door behind him slowly. 

They wasted no time, no second thoughts. Michael pushed Elio back onto the bed, running his hand over his torso, and pulling his button from his shorts. Elio’s shorts fell to his ankles, and Michael mouthed at him. 

Elio let out a gasp, lying on his back, and marveling at the feeling of Michael’s tongue, his warm mouth. He shut his eyes, guiding Michael’s searching hand to his chest, and holding his wrist. 

It was long before Elio’s legs went over Michael’s shoulders, and he was diving deeper into him. Tasting the most intimate parts of him, Elio was writhing on the bed like he was young again, maybe even a virgin being touched sensually. 

Under Michael’s care, Elio orgasmed moments after and lied in complete bliss. He could feel Michael’s lips on his hips, sucking bruises, and leading up to his ribs. He wouldn’t be able to wear his swimming shorts without being teased. 

Everyone would know. 

Grinding into Elio’s thigh, Michael ejaculated over Elio’s stomach and stood still with his forehead against his shoulder. His hands shaking as he pushed up, looking down at Elio. Both gasped with parted mouths, Michael leaned down to kiss Elio. 

They found the strength in the next few minutes to get back at it. Elio lied with his face to the pillows, arms flailed at his sides, and Michael behind him. The sound of their skin slapped together, if any harder, could warn the others not to come to the room. Despite Elio’s need to be vocal, he kept it to a quiet whimper with every thrust of Michael’s hips. 

At a rapid pace, Elio ejaculated again into the sheets, and Michael followed suit down his back. 

They grew messy and sloppy with every passing hour. 

When they’d stopped, Michael stood by the open French doors with a lit cigarette in his mouth. 

Elio turned over, looking at his glowing silhouette in the moonlight, and - it just wasn’t the  _ same _ . 

Michael looked over, offering out his smoke. 

Elio rolled out of bed carefully, and joined him. Both in the nude, they shared a cigarette between them in silence. Elio stared out to the pool, and the moon’s reflection in it’s calm current. 

Michael eyed Elio as he passed over the cigarette, “So, do you still care about this  _ Oliver?”  _

Elio stared out to the yard, “No.” 

Michael hummed, as if he didn’t believe the statement. “He broke your heart.” Michael shook his head, “I would believe it would leave something behind.” 

“Well, you believe wrong. I don’t care about him anymore.” 

Michael stared at Elio, and it formed a lump in his throat. To even say such a thing gave him anxiety, and to have Michael give him that interrogating glare. Elio handed back the cigarette. “Then surely he wouldn’t get jealous if he found out what we did.” 

“Even if he was, I don’t care.” Elio turned to Michael now. 

Michael had a devious smirk as he took a puff of his remaining cigarette. 

Wanting to drop the conversation about Oliver, Elio wrapped a hand around Micheal’s penis, stroking him with a determined look. Dropping to his knees, Michael’s hand combed through Elio’s hair as he leaned back, head against the frame of the french windows, and the night went on. 

  
  
  


The next morning, Elio woke up alone. He showered and dressed, as he passed the kitchen, he spotted Oliver. 

They met gazed, and Elio went on to the porch. 

“Good morning.” He said to Mafalda, who was finishing to set up breakfast. 

“Good morning.” She smiled. 

“Have you seen Michael?”

“Michael?” 

“I believe he went into town.” Said Sam, walking out behind Elio. 

Elio frowned, “Did he say when he’d be back?” 

“He didn’t.” 

Oliver walked out. 

He glanced at his son, “You’ve gotten along well with Michael, I see.”

“Sure.”

“I knew you would have many interests in common.” Sam smiled, as he sat down. 

Elio brushed it off, and moved to sit down. He came face to face with Oliver, almost colliding with him. 

“Excuse me.” Oliver stepped around him, to sit to Sam’s right. 

Elio sat on the other side of Sam, leaving an empty seat across from Oliver. 

Oliver noticed. 

“So, what are your plans today, Oliver?” Sam asked. 

Oliver pulled on a smile, “Since it’s a beautiful day, I was thinking of going to Bordighera.”

“Oh?” Sam hummed, “What for?”

“To look at what Monet admired about the city.” 

“Ah, yes, the infamous view _ of Bordighera.”  _ Sam turned to Elio, “That’d be a nice trip, wouldn’t it?” 

Elio didn’t comment, shrug his shoulders in a sort of way as he cracked his egg perfectly. 

Oliver always struggled to get it right, Sam laughed at that, and Mafalda - years later, helped him again. 

“I’ll join you.” Sam stated. “If that’s okay.” 

“I’d be more than happy if you did.” Oliver smiled. 

He turned his eyes to Elio, who turned away. Clearing his throat, he dropped his smile. 

When breakfast had ended, and Oliver had headed upstairs to ready for the drive, Sam approached Elio. 

“Come with us. We haven’t spoken much, I would like to know about your study abroad.” He insisted. 

Elio thought of having to share a car with Oliver, having to breathe the same space with him by choice, and not being able to travel too far from him in the end. Elio shook his head, “When Michael gets back, we’re going to a party.” He lied. 

“A party?” 

Elio hummed. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t start until late.” Sam said. “Come with us.” He pleaded. 

Elio looked to his father, who must’ve been so lonely because of his mother’s absence, and to have a piece of her back, his son, he must be clinging onto happiness. Close to feigning his own happiness just to assure his son. Elio nodded then. 

Sam smiled, clasping his shoulder. “This will be fun.” 

Elio nodded again as his father went into the house. Elio was sure it wouldn’t be. 

  
  
  


The drive was filled with music from the radio and the wind coming in through the open windows, the occasional conversation between Sam and Oliver, the bickering back and forth was somewhat comforting. 

Like old times. 

Elio shook the thought from his head, and filled it with images of Michael. Michael kissing him, holding him, having sex with him. Just anything to get the thought of Oliver and him out of his head, but with Oliver’s voice in his ear - it’s all he could picture. 

When they parked in Bordighera, they stared out into the Ligurian sea and started their journey. The  Torre dei Mostaccini mansion was private property, but it was still beautiful to gaze at the tower where Claude Monet liked to go. They visited the Villa Etelinda, and basked in the sun on it’s roof. Elio watched Oliver circle into it’s tower, looking at the mountains to the west, and the water to the south. 

They had lunch below another one of Monet’s inspirations and for the Hell of it, they stopped by the church of Santa Maria Maddalena. The angels seemed to sing to Elio as they walked the aisle, and Sam considered sitting in one of the pews. 

They rest their feet for a little while longer. 

Oliver walked around the altar, and gazed up at the paintings on the ceilings. 

Sam approached Elio’s pew, and sat beside him. They remained in momentary silence, gazing at Oliver and his amusement. “I sense your feelings towards Oliver have changed.”

Elio rolled his eyes slightly. 

“Into something of resentment. How come?” Sam waited for his son’s answer. 

“Should I feel any other way?” 

“It was years ago. Why do you hold a grudge to someone who wasn’t meant to stay?” 

“Because.”

“Because why?” 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I could try if you would let me.” 

Elio shook his head, looking to the angels above. 

“Elio, enmity does not look good on you.” He stated, “You were born of love and forgiveness. What changed along the way?”

“I grew up.” Elio met his father’s eyes. 

“The world is cruel, I know this to be true. But it is also kind, and forgiving, and full of wonderful things. Like the love you once had.”

Elio looked back up at the angels. 

“Sometimes the people we love leave us, and we don’t know what to do. In those moments we make a choice; we either love the things they offered us in the time we were together, or we forget it all. But it’s better to remember the good and the bad, than to forget something that took forever to build.”

Elio began to believe his father wasn’t speaking about Elio and Oliver, but about his mother. 

“It may have ended on a sour note, but don’t harbor that negative feeling. Let it go, before it’s too late.” Sam stood. “If I was given the chance, I would have said the things I meant to to your mother before she left. Now all I have is unfinished words. Don’t become like me. Say what you must, before you throw it all away.” He borrowed a smile, and turned for the doors. 

Elio clenched his fists as he watched Oliver, gazing at him, and letting out a reluctant sigh. His father was right. He was always right. 

  
  
  


On the drive back, the sun began to set. Elio had shut his eyes, his head bouncing softly against the window with every bump in the road. Sam gently jostled him awake when they’d gotten back home, and Elio didn’t know what to do with the time he’d been given. With the information he had, he didn’t know if he’d be accepted back into the man’s life he didn't want to be part of. 

Or what he tried to portray. 

Elio got up the courage to go to Oliver’s door, but he stood there in silence. His fist ready to knock on the wood, and yet he froze. What would he say? Would he apologize for his actions? He  _ was  _ sincerely sorry, but he didn’t know if he was ready to cry in front of another person again. 

Elio turned for the stairs. 

He sat outside under the crescent moon, and sat with his head in his hands. 

Michael hadn’t returned yet. 

Stepping out into the summer night air, Oliver nonchalantly lingered. 

Elio noticed him, Oliver looked over, and they both averted their eyes. Oliver stood with his hands in his pockets by the door, as Elio remained seated. 

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Oliver questioned. 

Elio looked up at the sky instead of answering. 

“I’m glad you came with us to Bordighera today.” He blurted. 

“My dad made me.” 

Oliver nodded, “Did you like it?” 

“Like what?”

“Bordighera?” 

Elio shrugged. 

Oliver watched the side of his face. 

“It was fine.” 

The conversation lingered awkwardly between them. 

“Your father says you still play?” Oliver tried. 

“It’s what I went to college for.” Elio noted sarcastically. 

“I miss how you used to play.”

Elio glanced over with furrowed brows. 

“I miss a lot of things about Italy.” 

Ignoring the sad tone in his voice, he didn’t notice that Oliver had come closer until he’d come in sight. They looked at each other. 

“May I sit?” 

Elio gestured in a  _ whatever  _ way, and Oliver sat with a space between them. 

They looked out to the yard. 

“Beside school, how have you been?’ Oliver asked suddenly. 

“Do you really care or are you just asking to fill the silence?” 

“I care.” 

Elio scoffed, “Right.” He stood. 

“Wait.” Oliver grabbed his hand, “Can’t we talk like we’re friends? Do you hate me that much?” 

Elio didn’t say a word, and Oliver didn’t suppress his frown as he removed his hand from Elio’s.

“The least you could do is listen to me.” Oliver said, “After that, you can pretend we never met. If that’s what makes you happy.” He turned his body to the pool. 

Elio stared down at him, and rolled his neck back to look up at the stars. He sat back down heavily, and visibly pulled himself into his chest. 

“All those years ago, I was set on graduating and starting a stable life. I came here and.. And everything changed. I met your mother and your father, I met your friends, and I met  _ you.  _ You were this fantastic thing, you were smart and witty, and charming. To me you knew everything I didn’t, and even if you didn’t know - I thought the world of you.”

It hurt to hear Oliver say everything in past tense, did Elio not hold up to his expectations anymore? Was he so horrible of a person to throw someone out of their life, and mean nothing to them? 

Had he become a monster? 

“I couldn’t stay. Even though I wanted to. I knew I had no place Italy, or this family, or your life. I was young, you were young. I wouldn’t call it a mistake, but.. There’s no other word for it.” 

Elio frowned. 

“I don’t regret anything. I said that before, and I meant it. Even now, I wish things had been different.” 

“Yeah, well, you got engaged and moved away. That’s sort of a permanent thing.” 

Oliver sighed heavily, “We split.” He looked down at his hands. 

“What?” 

“Winter passed, and things were different. We moved in together, thinking it would fix things, but it only made things worse. We shared each other’s space too much, and took up too little time. We grew apart.” He scoffed, “Funny thing is when she left.. I thought about Italy. About coming back. Nothing was holding me from doing it.” He seemed to question himself, “So why didn’t I?” 

Elio looked at his puzzled expression, and looked at Oliver’s clasped hands. 

“I stood away this whole time, and I see now - it made you hate me. Made you think I didn’t love you back. How lonely you must’ve felt. I’m sorry.” Oliver gazed into his eyes earnestly. 

Oliver leaned forward on his knees, and held his face in his hands. Elio didn’t know how to comfort him, if he was allowed to touch him again, or speak. Elio opened his mouth, licking his lips, he took a breath. He shot out the first thing that came to mind. “Marzia’s pregnant.” 

It took a moment for Oliver to react, he sat up with glossy eyes. “What?” 

“She’s 17 weeks. It’s a girl.” 

Oliver stared, “Did you..?” 

“No.” Elio chuckled, and it lasted longer than he expected. 

“Oh.” Oliver laughed, “Good. Good for her.” He sat up, “Is she still next door?”

“Yeah. She’s engaged too.” 

“That’s amazing.” 

“I know. I was surprised when I went by.” 

Oliver looked over to the next house, and back. “I should visit in the morning.” 

Eli nodded. “She’d be happy you’re around.” 

“Are you sure?’ 

“I think so.” 

Oliver and Elio shared an intimate gaze that fueled Elio’s rusted kettle again, and he cleared his throat pulling himself away. “I should go to bed.” Elio rose up. “All that walking tired me.” 

“I should too.” Oliver followed. 

They walked back inside, up the stairs, and through the halls. Standing in front of their bedroom doors, they said their good nights and stepped away. 

Elio stood with his back leaned against the door, and smiled to himself. He quickly shook it off, and began removing his clothes. He turned on the shower, and returned to grab him towel when there was a knock at his door. 

He frantically moved about. Oliver must want to come in, and what better opportunity then when Elio’s naked! 

“Who is it?” He asked as he opened the door. He presumed wrong. 

Michael, the smell of beer lingering off his breath, stood leaned in the doorway. His eyes trailed down Elio’s bare chest with a smile. 

“Michael. Hi.” 

“Were you expecting someone else?” He looked down the hall towards Oliver’s door. 

“What is it?” 

Michael steadied himself against the frame. “Can I come in? Or am I interrupting something?” 

Elio rolled his eyes, pulling Michael in by the back of his neck, and bringing his lips to his own. He dropped his towel, and shut the door. 

They had sex in bed, and again in the shower. Elio’s skin was turned aflame under Michael’s hands, and his bones turned to absolute mush. Their lips tracing each other’s, Elio’s tongue daringly mapping the structure of Michael’s neck. 

They lied in bed, shoulder to shoulder. Elio lied on his stomach, while Michael lies on his back with his eyes closed. Elio pushes up on his elbows, watching Michael. 

He peeked an eye open to Elio. “What?” 

“Where did you go today?” Elio asked. 

“Jealous?”

“Curious.”

“Same thing.” Michael turned on his side, his back to Elio. 

Elio pulled him back, “Will you not tell me?” 

“What difference does it make?” 

Elio scowled. “Why is it such a secret?” 

“Why is it such a priority?” Michael sat up. He scoffed and removed himself from the bed. He began grabbing his clothes as Elio watched, and he left. 

Elio felt empty with these interactions, like his one night stands back at campus. They gave him a temporary high, and for the most part he was still alone. He felt shame in mingling with Michael. 

He didn’t bring it up. 

Michael, on the other hand, had spotted Oliver returning to his bedroom when he left the room. He smirked, and crossed to his bedroom. 

Oliver furrowed his brow, looking from Michael’s door to Elio’s. His chest felt tight, he returned to bed. 

  
  
  


The next morning, Oliver was already with Sam when Elio came down for breakfast. 

“Good morning.” They all cheered to Elio. 

Elio repeated back as he sat across from Oliver. 

“What’re your plans for today, Oliver?” Sam pulled Oliver’s attention from Elio, “Another great adventure?”

“I’m going to see Marzia.” 

“Oh?”

“I only hope she’ll enjoy my company.” 

“I’m sure she will. I’ll call her before you go over, to see if she’s accepting visitors.”

“Thank you.” 

“And you, Elio?” Sam smiled. “Are you too partied out to go anywhere?” 

Elio forgot about his lie to party with Michael, Michael wasn’t even around the entire night anyways. He cleared his throat, “I don’t know.” 

“Well, then.” Sam glanced between them. “Let this be an interesting morning.” 

Elio looked up at Oliver’s ridiculing eyes, and turned away. 

When Oliver left for Marzia’s house, Elio found comfort in changing into swimming shorts, and taking a dip in the pool. He didn’t know how long he’d been in there, and if anyone besides Malfada, would come to bother him. Lying in the pool, floating quietly, he overheard joyful voices in the next yard. 

He tried to force them out; the sound of Marzia and Oliver happy. 

He sank under the surface of the waters, his butt hitting the floor. He clenched the air in his chest, and opened his eyes. 

The sky continued rifting through the water, rippling his vision. He stared at his hands, smoothing them through his hair, and back to his sides. 

This was peace. 

A shadow leaned over the poolside. 

He couldn’t see who it was, but he could hear his name being called. He pushed up, and brushed the surface. His vision became clear. 

Marzia looked at him with a smile, “Hi.”

“Hello.” Elio clasped the edge of the pool. 

“What were you doing down there?” 

“Relaxing.”

“You sure? Looks like you were drowning.”

“I’m an amazing swimmer.”

“Sure you are.” 

Oliver was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Oliver?” 

“He went inside with Massimo. They’re speaking with your father.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Something boring.” Marzia sat on the edge. 

Elio put his chin on his arms. 

“Oliver hasn’t changed much.” She smiled, “He’s still charming.” 

“Yeah, right.” Elio rolled his eyes. 

“You’ve always been stubborn.” Marzia brushed a hand quickly through Elio’s hair. 

“So are you. That’s why we got along so well.” 

Marzia laughed, “You’re not wrong.” 

Elio smiled, and stared to the house where he could see Oliver passing the back door. 

Marzia looked down at him, “Do you still have feelings for him?” 

Elio scowled, “No. Why would I?” 

“Because he’s  _ Oliver.”  _

“Is that supposed to hold some sort of importance to me?” Elio began floating backwards. 

“You once were in love with him, you know.”

“I was young, and naive. It wasn’t love.”

“I think it was.” 

Elio’s heart fluttered to the sound of sincerity in her voice. 

“In fact, I think everyone knew it was. Maybe except you.” Marzia looked to the door. “I wished I had something like that, a while back. I found someone who made me as happy as you did once.” She looked back to Elio, “And I can only hope you find someone who made you as happy as Oliver did.” 

Elio stood up, and removed himself from the pool.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“Excuse me.” He said.

“You can’t run from it. You still love him.”

Elio turned in his spot. 

“You always have. I know he holds a place in your heart, a place no one else is allowed to go. You’re special to him too, you know?”

She stood up, and leaned up to kiss Elio’s cheek. She smiled up at him, holding the side of his face.

“If you don’t love him, at least find closure in the hole he’s left behind. You’re a bitter person without that part of you.” 

Elio looked down at her. 

She said nothing more as she walked ahead, and Massimo walked her back to their house. 

Oliver waved them goodbye from the porch, and Elio passed him quickly. 

Once he’d gotten to his room, still dripping wet, he felt like kicking and screaming. 

He didn’t want to love Oliver anymore. He didn’t want to have his magnet pointing in his direction at all time, it was easy to stay away from him but hard to ignore the constant urge to be near him. To smell his clothes again, to fit perfectly into his neck, to kiss him. 

Elio sat crouched tightly to his knees, his hands over his ears, and curled up into a small ball. 

He didn’t know how to do this anymore, to remain ignorant to his own needs. 

Oliver didn’t have a clue how much of his world had fallen apart when he left. And he hated how Marzia could see everything inside of Elio so clearly. 

  
  
  


Later that night at dinner, Elio thought he could escape having dinner with the family. He was wrong.

There was a knock at his door, on the dot.

“Elio?” 

Elio clenched his pillow tighter over his head, he wanted to shut out the voices, shut out the laughter outside his french windows, make it all go away. He wanted to go back to school if it meant it’d all stop. 

“Elio? Are you awake?” 

Without a reply, the door opened. The light from the hall shined in, casting an orange glow over Elio’s lump of a body under the sheets. His knuckles tightly clenched over the pillow. 

“Are you awake?” 

Elio kept still. 

Lingering in the doorway for a moment, the door was shut. Elio pulled the pillow off of his head just as the light turned on over him. 

He flinched, covering his eyes. “What the hell.” He groaned. 

“Sleeping, huh?” Oliver scoffed. 

“Go away.” Elio curled up with his back to Oliver, the pillow over his head again. 

“Come have dinner with us.” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You haven’t eaten much all day.” 

“How would you know?” 

“Because I’ve been watching you.” 

Elio looked over his shoulder to Oliver’s concerned gaze, and lied back down. “No one asked you to.” 

Elio felt the bed dip, and suddenly a firm grip was pulling his shoulder back. He stared up at Oliver leaned over him, his Star of David dangling under his chin. The same Star of David that Elio admired so much, one that made Elio proud of who he was. 

“You can hate me all you want, but you don’t have to sabotage your own health to stay away from me.” 

“Get off of me.” Elio pushed Oliver’s hand off his shoulder, and Oliver’s other hand pressed just as firmly into his shoulder to keep his back on the bed. “I said  _ get off _ .” 

Through a fumble of limbs, Oliver forced himself over Elio, and throwing his leg over Elio, he straddled him to keep him down. His hands wound around Elio’s wrists, pressing them into the mattress. Both out of breath, they stared at each other. 

The sound of their breaths and the laughter outside were the only things they could hear. 

Oliver leaned down, his lips hovering over Elio’s. The anticipation of wanting to be kissed burned in Elio’s chest, and Oliver could see the embers in his eyes. 

He was a teenager again, and for the first time, a handsome American liked him. Elio wanted Oliver to initiate the kiss, to appear to not be the only one who wanted it as bad as he did. 

Oliver had more self restraint than Elio ever did. 

He pulled away, sitting back, and letting Elio’s wrists go. As if he were rethinking his choices, he stood up and exited the room. 

Elio sat up, watching him go, and remained in confusion. Why didn’t he kiss him? Had he realized he felt indifferent about Elio? Did he fall out of love with him? He would never get his answer. 

Oliver excused himself from dinner, and left the house. 

Elio came down for dinner to find he was gone without a word more, and couldn’t enjoy any bit of it. 

Sam noticed his son’s silence, and comforted him quietly. Clasping his shoulder, and smiling tenderly at him, he assured him everything would be okay. 

Oliver didn’t come back that night. 

Or the morning following. 

Or for the afternoon. 

Elio feared he had packed his things while everyone was asleep, and vanished back to America. Mafalda had just washed his clothes, so he  _ had  _ left his things behind. 

Elio needed answers. 

But all he received was a big pain in the ass, Michael clung to his side with an arm over his shoulder as if he hadn’t blown Elio off the day previous. Elio let it happen, wanting to fill the empty space Oliver left him with once again. 

They’d picked the sweet peaches and plums from the yard, and washed them in the sink. Anchise came along with crawfish this time, and Mafalda didn’t express her disinterest this time. 

Michael passed Elio, tapping him on the shoulder with a quirky smirk, and inclined him towards the hallway. Elio obliged, excusing himself from Anchise and Mafalda’s bickering. Michael stood on the stairwell, gazing down at Elio as he took up one step.

The front door opened, and Oliver stood at eye level with Elio. 

There was a moment of silence as they exchanged looks, and Oliver looked up to Michael. Michael didn’t say a word as he ascended the stairwell. 

Oliver looked back to Elio, and Elio tucked his head down following up the stairs. 

Disregarding the unfortunate moment, Michael was pulling Elio into his room, trying to make quick of his own clothes. He looked to Elio while already in the nude, he gestured to Elio’s clothes. Elio removed just his shirt, and looked uneasy and slow. 

Michael stared. “You want to do this or not?” 

Elio stared him in the face. 

The door behind Elio opened. 

Michael grabbed his shirt, and covered himself quickly. 

Elio turned to meet those same concerned eyes, and Oliver looked to Michael.

“Get out.” He demanded. 

“What?” Michael scoffed.

“I said,  _ get out _ .” Oliver picked up Michael’s clothes, and shuffled him out of Elio’s room. He slammed the door shut behind him. 

Elio, still unmoving, took a short breath. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Shut up.” Oliver turned. “That guy,” he pointed to the door, “He isn’t good for you.”

“Good for me? How do you know what’s good for me, huh? You don’t know me.” 

“I know you well enough to know you’re only sleeping with that guy because he’s giving you attention.”

“And what if I am? At least he gives me some sort of feeling.” 

Oliver put his hands on his head, and began pacing. 

“All you’ve ever done is bring me hurt and confusion.”

“I said I was  _ sorry _ .” 

“Sorry doesn’t stop the pain from settling in when you left on the train. Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you left me on that platform, alone, and never knowing if you were ever coming back.“ Elio’s eyes began to tear up. “Years, Oliver, for years I was searching for a way to feel something, to fill the spot you left, and it left me empty and hollow. I changed because you hurt me. I hurt people.” 

“I’m  _ sorry.”  _ Oliver emphasized, grabbing Elio’s face in his hands, staring into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Elio shook his head, “I don’t care.” 

“Yes, you do.”

“No-”

“Then why are you crying?” Oliver asked. “You’re crying because I hurt you, because I traumatized you by neglecting you. I never should’ve left, and I’m sorry.” 

“Stop saying it.” Elio pushed at his chest weakly. 

“I’m sorry.” Oliver stroked his thumb over Elio’s cheek. 

Elio tried to pull away, and Oliver smothered him. He tucked Elio’s head into his neck, wrapping his arms around his body tightly, and suffocated him. 

“I’m sorry.” Oliver shut his eyes, swaying gently. “I’m so sorry, Elio.” He brushed his lips against Elio’s ear. “I’m sorry.” 

Elio’s body began to quiver, and a sob escaped his lips. He was only held tighter, and hushed with sweet hymns. Oliver embraced him, stroking his hair down, and he himself rested his forehead against Elio’s shoulder. 

When his crying lessened, Oliver pulled back to look at him. Cupping his blotchy face, he stroked his thumb over his cheek, and then his lips. Admiring the way they freely parted against the warm pad of his thumb, he was enticed to lean forward and kiss them. 

The kiss was gentle, reminding them that they were strangers again, and yet a gesture so intimate that they were  _ once _ lovers. Elio’s hands clenched onto the fabric of Oliver’s shirt, longing to anchor himself. Oliver wanted to dive into Elio’s mouth, to taste him again in a fever, but touching him was enough. His hand rested on the back of his neck as he pulled back. 

Their eyes followed the lines of each other’s faces. Neither said a word. 

The laughter outside brought them back to reality. 

Elio would leave when the summer was over. This time Oliver would be left behind. 

Oliver stepped back, and Elio’s hand strayed on his wrist. He let their hands drop.

Elio didn’t know if it was because he was touch starved, or just because it was Oliver, but his skin felt like it was in flames. He stepped back, kneeling on the bed carefully, and watched Oliver by the door. 

Oliver watched him with a determination, and eyed his collarbones, and the fine lines leading down to his naval. Oliver, too, was touch starved and hungry for human contact. He reached behind him, shutting off the lights. 

He crossed the distance between the door and the bed, standing before Elio. Elio’s hands glided up his sides, and rested on his chest. The palms of his hands were firm as Oliver pushed into them, leading down to his shorts. Elio looked up at him, as if to ask if this was okay. Oliver held the side of his neck, and Elio continued to unbutton Oliver’s pants. 

Unzipping him, Elio pulled his shorts down. The warm air of the Italian summer soothed Oliver, as well as Elio’s hand grasping at his dick. Oliver let his mouth drop open, short breaths fleeing his chest. He steadied himself on Elio’s shoulders as Elio leaned down, catching Oliver’s length in his mouth. Curling a hand into Elio’s hair, he felt weak in the knees. 

Elio was no longer an inexperienced teenager, and he wasn’t close to his youth anymore. Elio was entering his late 20’s, while Oliver was already 31. Both had several partners between them, and yet they were young again with the jitters. 

Oliver pushed Elio on his back, and he fumbled to get his clothes off. Oliver removed his own shirt, and kicked his shorts and shoes aside. 

They fumbled in the dark until they managed, Elio had been lying on his back as Oliver entered him. With Oliver’s hand clamped over his mouth, Elio’s high moan muffled it’s way out. The open french windows threatened to warn the others of their business. 

Oliver began to thrust into Elio, and clenched onto the mattress to ground himself. Elio hooked his feet behind Oliver, receiving the assertive thrusts, and praying no one was doing rounds in the halls. Oliver continued to thrust into him and moan in his ear, holding his hips as leverage, and savoring the taste of Elio’s tongue on his own. 

With a final jab of his hips, they both seized up, shooting up to the stars. Oliver lied with his chest on Elio’s, their limbs in a tangled mess. Elio stroked his fingers through Oliver’s hair, and kept his eyes shut. 

“ _ Oliver _ .” Oliver said gently into Elio’s neck. 

Elio’s heart began to thump so hard he was afraid Oliver might be able to hear it, or feel it in his neck. Elio tried to suppress his smirk. “ _ Elio. _ ” He said into Oliver’s ear. 

Oliver’s lips curled against his neck in a smile, “ _ Oliver.”  _

“ _ Elio.”  _

“Let’s stay like this forever.” Oliver stated. “Don’t ever leave.” 

“I have to.” Elio frowned, “I have to go back to school.” 

“Then just for now.” Oliver said. “ _ Oliver.”  _

Elio held him tightly to his chest, “ _ Elio.”  _

_ “Oliver.”  _

_ “Elio.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing is better than a sort of happy ending with clarity and closure. :)


End file.
